The Glass Is
by Samantha Marrero
Summary: Love and drug addictions. When life hands you a lemon, make lemonad. "The Glass Is" is a love story full of excitment, fear and most importantly life. Is the glass half empty or half full? The glass simply is. Play the hand you are dealt. Enjoy life as it


Chapter 1

By: Samantha Marrero '08 ©

The Glass Is.

(NOT FINISHED)

Chapter 1

The waves absorbed my entire body. I was gasping for air but getting a mouth full of salty water. I tried clawing and scratching and kicking as hard as I possibly could, to find my way to the surface. It seemed the more I tried the deeper I sank. I could see the sun through the crashing waves up above more clearly then I could see anything at that point. I was on the edge of unconsciousness, my lungs feeling as though they were being crushed inside of me. "Sam!" I heard from somewhere I couldn't find. I could feel my body being shaken and pulled at. I guess it's just the waves, since I have so easily been taken over. "Sam, come on!" There it was again. How could I possibly be hearing this from under the water? Maybe I'm finally slipping. Maybe it's an angel who's come to take me away. But this can't be an angel, can it? No. This voice is far too familiar. I know this person, I seem to be hearing, is alive. Maybe I have finally lost my mind in these few moments' I have left.

"Samantha, wake up!" I hear much louder this time. _That must be it_, I start thinking to myself. _I must be dreaming._ I try so hard to make it to the surface, but my efforts seem wasted. My arms and legs are exhausted and won't move the way I want them to. _Damn, this sucks,_ were my last thoughts.

Before I knew it I was jumping up, clinking to my mother's body, gasping for air. I could feel the my body drenched in sweat. "Calm down, your alright. It's okay, breathe," My mother whispers in my ear. "The dream again?" She asks in a worried tone. "Uh-huh." Is all I manage to get out while trying to collect as much air into my lungs as humanly possible. My mother sits with me rubbing my hair and occasionally tells me everything's alright. "I really think you should talk to someone about this dream. You've been having it for what, 6 months now? This can't possibly be normal, baby, it's been far too long." My mother says to me in only a tone she could pull off. "Maybe I should give Dr. Weil a call, and you could talk to him if you-" I cut her off with a look. "Mom, I don't need to talk to anyone, I'm fine really. It's just stress." I sigh and smile to add a hint of sarcasm. I could tell she didn't buy it. She scrunches her eye brows into a worried scowl. "Sam, please..." She begins. I cut her off again, "Mom, stop. I'm fine, seriously. Just forget it. It's nothing I promise." I try to sound convincing. "Alright," She begins, "But if they continue you are going to see Dr. Weil, I don't care how old you are, you are still my child and I am still going to take care of you." I don't think the fact that I am 24 has quite hit my mother yet, but still I smile and agree. She kisses my forehead and gets up to go make some coffee and finish breakfast. I let out a sigh of relief and head to the bathroom. My dreams always leave me with a full bladder.

I guess you could say my dreams come from unwanted stress, or some hidden sadness in myself. At least, that's what I tell myself.

As I'm brushing my teeth I examine my face, I notice the sheet lines that have indented themselves into my left cheek, I look at the black circles that seem to be forming a permanent home under my eyes and how tired I really look. My once long curly brown hair, looks as if it has gone through a weed whacker. Half of it seems to be stuck to my face, spread out across my forehead and sticking up in all different directions. After about 5 minutes of blankly staring at myself I realize that I have to finish packing. I finish up in the bathroom, gently trying to make my hair look halfway decent, combing through all the knots and tangles, but realize it's no use and just throw it up in a pony tail, and head back towards my bed. I look at the clock hanging on my wall before returning to the lonely suitcase that has been propped up against my desk, courtesy of my mother. 9:37 AM. Our plane is leaving in less then an hour. Looking around I realize I have not slept in my childhood bed, let alone my childhood home, for almost 5 years. The thought brought a smile to my face. I never realized how much I missed waking up to the smell of my mother's breakfast, or the sun beaming in through my window. I let out a sigh and start piling the last of my clothes into the already too cramped suit case. This weekend is my parent's 20th anniversary and they wanted to renew their vows in Vegas, and stay maybe a week or two, depending on their enjoyment. _Great_, I start to think to myself, _5 hours on a plane._ The thought makes me groan. I never was a fan of flying. I don't know what it is; maybe the thought that at any moment something could go wrong and we would all crash to our deaths? Or maybe it's because I don't completely trust the captain. Or maybe I'm just paranoid. That could be it. But just thinking about being away from Florida for even a day is enough to make me feel more at ease. I can't say that I hate it in Florida, but I can say that it gets dreadfully boring and predictable. Especially when you've lived here your entire life as I have.

I grab my bathroom bag full of extra tooth brushes, toothpaste, my shampoos and conditioners, and everything else that I'll need and shove it into my purse. Just in case the shops in Vegas don't exactly have what I use, it's always nice to be prepared. I've always been picky with the products I use on my body. Once I find something I like, I usually stick with it. I've never really liked change, especially the big kind. Like the day I moved out of my parent's house to go to college and become some what of an adult. My first few days, which quickly turned into weeks, were really hard for me. I would call my mother at least twenty times a day to ask about bills and heating and where I would have to go to do certain things, like get my water turned on. I went three days without water because I guess I thought it would eventually get turned on once they knew I was living there. Wrong. Needless to say I didn't exactly smell too dainty when I finally did get to take a shower.

I go through my purse one last time to make sure I have everything. _Wallet? Check. Camera? Check. ID? Check. _I finish my imaginary check list and take one last look around my room. I throw my purse onto my shoulder, grab my suit cases and head down stairs. Before I even hit the bottom step I smell my mother's pancakes. I can hear my father watching his usual shows in the other room. I smile at the familiarity of it all. As I step into the kitchen my mother turns to me and smiles. "How are you feeling?" She asks in an almost unnaturally sweet tone. "I told you, Mom, I'm fine. Really" I tell her with a smile to prove it. I take a seat at the kitchen table and try to change the subject. "So, Mom, how's everything going around here?"

"Oh fine, just a little quiet. I still miss you running around and blasting that noise you call music." She replies with a small laugh. I could hear the sincerity in her voice. I smile as she brings me a plate with three blueberry pancakes stacked one on top of the other with syrup dripping down. My mouth starts to water and I'm practically drooling. "My favorite. Thanks, Mom." I say as I take a bight. I could see her eyes light up at the sight of me acting like an animal over her cooking. I laugh and get up and hug her. "What was that for?" She asks even though she is obviously overjoyed. "Nothing really, I just miss you is all. And you're cooking." I laugh. "Well, it was nice. But hurry up and finish your breakfast," She says with a grin on her face, "We have to get going; I don't want to miss our flight." I sit back down and try to horridly enjoy my breakfast. While I'm eating I sit and watch my mother clean up around the kitchen the same way she always has. I get up and bring my dishes to the sink, clean them and put them away. I head back into the hallway to retrieve my bags so I can bring them out to the car in order to spare my father the burden of loading them in for me. "Be right back, Mom" I yell from the door way. The moment I walk outside I immediately regret it. The humidity is so thick it feels as if I had just walked into a sauna that had been set to its highest level. Florida in July. Not the best time to be outside if you ask me. I did always prefer the cold over the blazing heat. But in Florida when does it ever get cold? I can feel the sweat already beginning to form on my back and brow. "Ugh." I say allowed. I walk out to my father's truck, pop the trunk of the car and start loading my bags in. Before closing the hood I take a look at the old truck. I remember all the good and bad memories in this truck, and get a feeling of nostalgia.

I start to walk towards my house when I hear someone walking up behind me, "Sam!" I turn and see that it's Vanessa. She has been my neighbor and best friend since the age of nine. I feel excitement fill my body the second I see her. We hug each other and laugh. "You look like shit, dude." She says in an overzealous tone. I laugh, "I know, I haven't been sleeping too great lately." She looks over my face and notices my sleepy eyes, "Why don't you go get some more sleep? You look like your about to die." She laughs at the last part. She did always know how to make things sound oh so delicate. "Eh, I can't I have to catch a plane with my parents in about an hour." She seems confused at first and then realization sweeps over her face, "Oh! That's right; it's your parent's anniversary isn't it?" I nod, "Crap, Wish them a happy anniversary for me will you, and have a safe trip."

"Why can't you just come tell them?" I ask.

"I have class; I'm actually running a bit late right now. And I have to go so; we better hang out when you get back! I'll kick your ass if we don't." I smile and nod again, hug her and watch her leave.

As I walk back into my house I see my father walking towards the kitchen. "Hey, daddy." I say in a cheerful voice. "Morning, sweet heart. You sleep well?" He asks in his usual groggy voice. "Yep, I slept fine." I smile at him and ask if he's ready. He nods and I head upstairs to check on my mother. "Mom, you ready?" I ask in a gentle tone. "Yep, all I need it my purse and I'm ready to go." I hand her her purse that she didn't seem to notice was on the door knob. "Oh, thank you. I swear sometimes I think I've lost my mind." I laugh and walk behind her as she walks down the stairs in such a graceful manner. I was always jealous of my mother in that way. She was always so full of elegance and poise. I guess the only way to describe her would be somewhat of a Step Ford Wife.

We all head out to the car. My father opens the door and the alarm starts going off. We all get in and he starts the car and turns the alarm off, while letting out an annoyed grunt. We put on our seatbelts and pull out of the drive way. As we drive down the block I look at all the houses and buildings and think about all the people in those houses and buildings. It's something I've done since I was a child. I always wondered about other peoples lives. If they were happy, sad, scared, in love. I lay my head against the window and look up at the sky, and listen to Nicolaus Esterhazy's Symphony No 3 playing softly from the speakers.

In what seemed like no time at all, we were at the airport. My father was growing more and more aggravated with the amount of traffic. We head for the Long-Stay parking garage. My father circles around the first level and finds a spot near the back. "Great spot." He half mumbles. We grab our bags and head for terminal 5.

After going through security, and giving them our bags and belongings, we go and sit and wait for our flight to begin boarding. "We made great time didn't we?" My mother asks as a way of breaking the silence. "Yeah, we sure did, Mom." I say trying to make her less uncomfortable. She smiles. My mother never did like being in uncomfortable situations. I guess sitting in an airport with hundreds of other people, and no one talking to you is an uncomfortable situation for her. For me on the other hand, it's a blessing. I've always some what preferred being left alone. I'm not what you would call a "Social Butterfly."

While we wait I look around at all the different shops and people walking around, and notice a boy and a girl, neither can be over the age of 18 by the looks of them. The boy with bright golden blonde hair stands around 6'1 with his some what muscular arms wrapped around the tiny girl. She couldn't have been more then 110 pounds, with long red brown hair that fell midway down her small frame in loose waves. She had her frail arms wrapped around the boy's neck, standing on her tip toes. The boy releases her and kisses her on the mouth. She kisses back. The moment is so serene you would swear that no one else was around them. It was so clear that they were in love, so clear that it might as well have been written on their foreheads. I can't help but stare, but after a few seconds of realization that I was practically gawking at the young couple, I look away.

I decide to take a look around and maybe explore some of the little souvenir shops they have, in hopes of distracting myself and giving the couple some privacy from my some what intrigued gaze. I look at my mother who has completely absorbed herself in and article in one of her Home and Garden magazines. "Mom, I think I'm going to take a look around. Do either of your guys need anything?" My mother shakes her head and I look at my father, he does the same. "Alright, I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Alright." My mother says, and then buries her nose back into the magazine. I decide to go check out a mini bookstore that also sold t-shirts and little nick knacks, like key chains, Florida mugs and bracelets. My eyes go straight to the key chains. I search through the key chains not really interested in what I'm looking at, when I spot a giraffe hanging from a small silver hoop. It's nothing special, just a small silver giraffe. I've always loved giraffes ever since I was a child. I pick it up; grab a bottle of water out of the small cooler located in the back of the store and head to the cashier. There is a large woman in front of me arguing with the cashier, saying that he didn't give her the correct amount of change back. I ignore it and fiddle with the key chain. The woman lets out an irritated grunt and whispers "whatever" under her breath, and walks away. My eyes can't help but follow her as she impatiently walks away. "Miss?" I turn around to see the man behind the counter staring at me. "Oh, sorry." I say with a small embarrassed laugh. I walk up the cashier and place the key chain and bottle of water down, grab a pack of gum off the small rack sitting on the counter and also hand it to the man. While he rings everything up I dig through my purse to try and find my wallet. Of course it is at the very bottom under everything else, which makes me have to basically dump my entire bag out just to get to it. "Your total is 5.18" the cashier says watching me basically tear apart my purse trying to get at my wallet. I finally find it and let out an small sigh of victory. I dig through my wallet and hand him a ten dollar bill. I space out as he starts getting my change together, when I hear "_Now boarding Flight 586, Fort Lauderdale to McCarran International Airport, Las Vegas, Nevada."_ Over the intercom. "Shit" is the only thing that comes to mind, and unfortunately it also found its way out of my mouth. I grow impatient as I watch him slowly count out the change. "4.82 is your change." He places the change and receipt in the palm of my hand and hands me a small bag containing my things. "Thanks." I say as I start walking, well more like running, back to our loading gate.

While running, like a maniac I might add, I almost don't realize that I'm about to trample a child sitting in a stroller. I quickly dodge the stroller and regain speed once I'm in the clear of anything I could possibly damage or anyone I could end up knocking into. About twenty feet from our gate, just as fait would have it; I trip over my own feet. I landed right on my face. I can feel my cheeks get warm under my skin. A small old women, probably in her late 60's, comes over and stares at me for a good 20 seconds before offering her hand. I was reluctant to grab her hand in fear of bringing the old women down with me. So I smile and shake my head at her hand. "Are you alright? That looked like a pretty nasty fall." The old woman asks in a small child-like voice. I get up with a fresh wave of embarrassment and tell her I'm fine. I thank the old women go on my way. I can see the emotions crossing over my mothers face as I'm approaching her. One: being the look of amazement that her own daughter had just fallen on her face, tripping over nothing at all but air. And the others were ranging from embarrassment to worry.

I reach down and grab my carry-on bag from the chair that I had left it and try to avoid eye contact with my mother. I already knew what she was going to say. _You need to learn to be more graceful, Samantha. Why were you running anyway? It's not very lady like. Blah, blah, blah. _But to my surprise all she asked was, "Are you okay?" I could feel that my mouth was hanging open in shock at the small question. No interrogation, no lecture on my non-girlish habits. Just "Are you okay". I quickly snapped my mouth shut and told her, just as did the old women, that I was fine. She just shook her head and began to walk towards the gate.

We boarded our flight, loaded our carry-ons in the overhead compartments and took our seats, my mother and I slid our purses under our chairs. I took the seat nearest the window. I may not have enjoyed flying but I did enjoy seeing the beauty of the clouds and the too-small-to-see houses below. Before I knew it we were already in the air and the sound of my fathers quiet snoring filled in the silence on the plane. My father always slept when we were on planes. He had said to me once when I asked why he did so, that if the plane was going down and we were all going to plunge to our deaths that he would want to be asleep when it happened. I figured that was enough of an explanation for me.

I reached under my seat and grabbed my bag. I opened it and took out my ipod. I set the play lists to shuffle and waited for the music to fill my ears. I closed my eyes and rested my head on the back of my seat. Before long the song Vegas Skies by The Cab began to play. How ironic. I let the music fill my mind and body. I swam in a sea of notes and beats, letting the sound of Alex Deleon's voice flow through me. I could feel myself start to drift off to sleep. _Great, _I'm turning into my father.

When I finally woke up I it was to the sound of Jon Brion's Strings That Tie to You. The time on the little screen on my ipod told me it was 12:25. I had only been asleep two hours. I let out a mental groan at the thought of being trapped on this plane for another three hours. I rolled over as much as possible in this cramped seat and faced the window. I close the shade and my eyes almost simultaneously. Again I am asleep.

When I woke for the second time it was to the sound of the pilot's voice over the intercom. "Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen this is your captain speaking. We will be landing in approximately 9 minutes, if you could take your seats and fascine your seatbelts. The temperature is 93° with clear blue skies. Thank you for flying JetBlue. Enjoy your stay in Nevada. We hope you enjoyed your flight." Knowing we'd be off this plane and on solid ground in less then 10 minutes was enough to make me jittery.

I opened the shade on my window and watched as we descended closer to the ground.


End file.
